


Pirates

by cas_tielle



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 06:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2956490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cas_tielle/pseuds/cas_tielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>❝i'll save you from the pirates❞</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. part i

**Author's Note:**

> the time frame for this story takes place approximately between 3.09 "Nightmares and Daydreams" and 3.10 "The Day of Black Sun: Part 1", when the Gaang is still travelling around but Zuko hasn't joined them yet.

Zuko pulls the brim of his hat down, shielding his scar. A shadow is cast over half of his face. His clothes are dirty and worn, holes in the cuffs of his pants and tears in his shirt. He had found them from the days he travelled with Iroh. But he can’t think of his uncle right now, and Iroh is pushed from his mind.

Carrying only a weathered satchel, the crown prince of the Fire Nation walks slowly, his eyes passing over the trinkets and miscellaneous objects in each booth. They’re all worthless items, worth nothing to the treasures in the Palace, but they’re a good distraction.

The market is bustling with people, children and the elderly, here to buy their food for the next week. There are loud calls from stall owners, squeals from baby lizard dogs and the kids kicking up dust as they toss a ball around. The smell of food, fried and fresh, hangs over the entire street. It smells good, he admits, but Zuko’s already eaten and he moves on.

He’s not looking for anything in particular as he wanders between booths, just waiting for something to catch his eye. Zuko stops at a booth selling earrings, stares at the pair dangling in the center display. It’s a shining, smooth blue, swirls running across the small surfaces. He can’t remember why it looks so familiar, and it stumps him for a moment, but then he realizes: it looks like Katara’s necklace, the one he took from her so long ago. He runs his thumb over it.

“Nice, eh?”

The store owner’s voice surprises him, and he looks up. A plump Fire Nation woman is looking at him. “It’s a pretty thing, isn’t it?” she says. “My husband brought it back from the Northern Water Tribe.”

Zuko finds his voice. “Yes,” he says, “It’s very nice.”

“It’ll cost you three hundred yuan. Are you interested?”

He declines politely, and moves on.

Gulls fly overhead, swooping over the water in the bay and landing on the canvases of the stalls. Zuko walks, barely glancing at the other stores. 

But something glints in the mid-afternoon sun, and his eyes flicker imperceptibly. A small…coin? No. It’s a tile. A pai cho tile. There’s a lotus engraved onto both sides, like Uncle’s from that crazy organization. But it’s not a white lotus. Somehow, though, he can’t take his eyes off of it, and discreetly he slips it into his pocket.

“Hey, _you!_ ”

Not discreetly enough, as it seems. There’s a large, angry man standing at the doorway of the boat, sitting in front of the stand. He yells again, “You! I saw that!” Other angry men dash out of the boat, brandishing knives. 

Zuko’s head whips towards them, back leg set back in a fighting stance. His palms are burning, fire ready to erupt. But he realizes just in time that he can’t, it’ll draw too much attention. A petty thief snitching things off stores is common, but the news of the crown prince of the nation starting a fight in a commoner’s market will certainly get back to Azula’s ears, and his father’s, not long after. The fire is extinguished.

“Get him!” one of the pirates roar. Zuko turns and runs. No one else pays attention to him, aside from a few uninterested glances.

 


	2. part ii

Steadily, Appa lands with a thump. The weary travelers slide off his back, some more gratefully than others. 

“Oh, rock, sweet, rock,” Toph exclaims, dropping to her knees and kissing the earth repeatedly. “I missed you.”

“Twenty-two hours in the air’s cutting it a little close for me, too.” Katara stretches tiredly. Her body’s sore from trying to find a comfortable position on Appa’s saddle. “I need to find a bathroom.” Their last pit stop had been seven hours ago.

“I’m with Katara,” Sokka says. “Ugh, that last water flask was a mistake.” He hops from foot to foot and dances his way behind the nearest tree. To the misfortune of the others, they can hear what sounds like a waterfall, followed by a contented sigh. 

“Jeez, keep it down, Sokka,” Toph says, wrinkling her nose. “Any louder and I’ll lose my hearing.”

“Can’t hear you!” he yells back. 

Aang is just as tired as his friends, but he manages to stifle a yawn. Beside him, Appa isn’t as successful. His molars shows as his mouth stretches wides, the leaves in front of him blowing away. “You must be really tired, buddy. You can rest now.” Appa’s big eyes flutter shut, and soon, he’s snoring softly. Gently, Aang pats his oldest friend on the head.

“Aren’t we a little close to the Fire Nation’s royal palace?” wonders Toph aloud. She can feel the enormity of it, spanning across acres and acres of land. She sneers. All metal and bolts inside that prison and nothing that she could use to bend. “I can feel it just over that mountain.” A finger points to their left.

“Yeah, but we’ve already visited the other villages around the Fire Nation. We can’t risk going back to them; they might recognize us a second time.” Sokka’s back from behind the tree, adjusting his tunic.  

“Let’s go,” Aang says to the others. “I saw a market not too far from here. We need to stock up on more supplies before we keep moving.”

Katara barely hears him. She’s looking around distractedly, peering around trees and bushes.

“You coming, Katara?” Aang taps her shoulder nervously. She doesn’t have to come, but he doesn’t want to go without her.

She’s tired, doesn’t feel like going to the market, being surrounded by the nauseating smells of other people. “I think I’ll just stay here,” she tries. “I’m kind of tired. You guys go on ahead, I’ll just keep Appa and Momo company.”

Trying not to show it, Aang nods, even though he’s wishing differently. “Okay. Toph, Sokka, come on.” Grabbing his bag, Sokka follows the bald-headed boy, whistling merrily. Toph is less enthusiastic, she grumbles all the same. “Later, Sugar Queen,” she mumbles.

The three walk down the hill, towards the market and a few steps closer to the Fire Nation.

 

 

As soon as they’re out of sight, she hops up and gives Momo a quick scratch behind the ears. “You stay here, okay?” she tells it. “Stay with Appa, little buddy. I’m just going to go for a little walk.” She tries to convince herself that it’s only that, just a walk. Though ‘explore’ is probably a better term. After checking that her pouch of bending water is strapped safely to her waist, Katara lumbers down the road her friends have just taken.

It’s okay, thinks Katara, to want a little time away from your friends. But she knows it’s mostly just the itching feeling that’s urging her to explore.

The forests of the Fire Nation keep surprising her. They’re so much less…aflame, than she keeps picturing them. Trees are all around, so green. The branches are long and lean, covered in bundles of leaves, fluttering whenever the wind blows by. There’s actual grass – imagine, _grass!_ – along the sides where the paths don’t run. She follows the second lane, the one her friends have just forsaken, reasoning that she should come out on the other side of the market. 

She’s right, of course. It’s the very end of the stalls, the ones that are smaller, thinning out. It sits by the bay, gulls squawking and diving at the food booths. She’s just walking around, looking at the cheap stuff being sold, one hand on her pouch at all times. But browsing gets boring after a while, and Katara begins to regret not going with the rest of her friends.

A distant wail sounds from her right, and her head whips towards it. Her ears tune everything else out, and her heart starts pounding. Someone has to be in trouble, and she is the only one who can help. 

Katara takes off in a run, hair flashing as her feet hit the ground. Images of innocent people being attacked pass through her mind and it only spurs her on quicker.

_I will never, ever turn my back on people who need me._

She brushes through the vines tangled in the trees, feet padding in the muddy slosh and splashing her legs. Her head is throbbing in anger and with adrenaline, picturing the ways an innocent person could be being hurt.

Something sharp scrapes her her leg, nearly tripping her, and she stops to look down. Whatever she’s tripped on has drawn blood, and on impulse she dips her finger in the open wound. She smears it across her face in the patterns of a spirit that she has long since missed being. Red paints her cheeks and her chin and her eyelids. She remembers to add three thick lines on her arms before sealing the wound with her pouch water. She’s up and running no time.

Bursting through the trees, Katara comes to an open clearing, taken suddenly aback by the large group of terrifying men, armed with sharp knives and fearsome-looking piercings. A silver ring glistens and shudders on one man’s face as he leers at her.

She takes an unconscious step back, then steps forward again. She is not about to back down now; this is obviously the fight she was looking for. 

“Looking for something, lil’ lady?” says the ring-nosed man threateningly. “’Cause I s’ggest you just turn away, now. This in’t your problem.”

“I think it is.” Katara takes a fighting stance, knowing she is vastly outnumbered. She readies herself for the fight to come.

“A’right, but don’t blame us when you go crying home. This is your problem now.” The man grins as his sword glints in the low sunlight piercing the thick leaves. The rest of pirates follow suit and charge at her, like a herd of eagle-bulls. Quickly, she jumps to the side, narrowly avoiding the point of a spear and smashing a shoulder into a heavy tree trunk. It stings, and Katara rotates it to loosen the tense muscles, while dodging a fat fist aimed at her head. She ducks, and the large pirate’s hand crashes into the tree. He howls, clutching his injury to his chest. She uses this as an opportunity to bend a stream of her pouch water with her healthy hand up the man’s leg and flipping him onto his back. He groans as he’s trampled by his fellow bandmates. 

Katara’s still shaking her sore arm as she easily evades several more blows, trying to gain the feeling back. She mentally berates herself for having been the first to be injured in the fight, and blames it on the lack of practice. It’s been a while since she’s been in a proper fight. Traveling undercover doesn’t see much action.

With both arms now successfully working, she throws her arms up, summoning all the liquid from the dirty slush that the forest seems to be full of. It makes moving around harder, but it’s an awful lot of water, and Katara will take any water she can get. 

Murky, water tentacles rise above three unsuspecting pirates, grabbing them from behind and swinging them around by their waists. Her arms mimic that of the tentacles, rotating in large, circular motions. She flicks her wrists and the pirates go flying.

There’s a grunt behind her and Katara whirls around just in time, spraying another lanky man in the face with a face-full of dirty water. Spluttering, he stumbles backward, knocking himself unconscious with a solid hit on the head. 

“Thanks for that,” Katara says. “Saved me the trouble of knocking you out myself.” She sticks an arm out and another gush of water blasts a pirate into a tangle of vines.

She nearly misses the swish of the sword coming down on her head, but she pulls a wave of water over her just in time, freezing it so it forms a shield in front of her face. The metal blade is lodged in the ice, and the man struggles to free it to no avail. Abandoning it, he lunges at her, surprising her. 

The hit is hard, but it’s his weight that crushes her. The wind is knocked out of her and Katara’s lungs scream to work properly. Her head feels woozy, and she can only assume she’s landed on something hard. Rocks, probably. The large man’s image swirls in front of her and she only barely remembers to move her head as his fist collides with the spot where it had just been. The sting of his slap across her face burns, but not from pain. Anger flows through her veins, directed at herself for letting him touch her like that.

“Look what ye’ve done, girl,” the man growls, his rank breath blown directly into her face. “We’ve lost sight of that dirty, little thief who decided to steal from us. And,” he gestures at the rest of the unconscious pirates, “Ye’ve knocked out all my men.”

Katara can only manage to suck up enough saliva to spit in his face.

He slaps her again. 

In a rage of pure red, water surges all around her, enveloping them both and pushing the man back with the force of a geyser. Katara doesn’t even feel it. Her hatred allows her to ignore the power in that blast, it’s building and building and the man is thrown against a tree, the water drowning him as he struggles. She screams wildly, watching the liquid create an explosion of foam and splinters of wood.

It all comes down like a slap when she sees his face in an expression of terror. In one abrupt movement, she relinquishes her hold on him and he falls, passed out. 

Hands shaking, trembling with the aftershock of the power that could have become murderous had she let herself go through with it. Could she have done it, really? Katara isn’t a murderer. It’s not her.

Yet…she felt like she might have. It scares her to think that she would have killed that man.

It’s midday and the hot sun beats down through the trees, but Katara suddenly finds herself shivering. She’s just taken down an entire band of pirates singlehandedly, and her whole body shakes like an earthquake. 

The thought of murdering a man in cold blood makes her sick to her stomach and she swallows the bile in her throat.

There’s a rustle behind her and her ears tune in acutely. She suspects that the captain has woken up, but she doesn’t know how wrong she is. 


	3. part iii

Meeting those amber eyes is almost too much for her to bear. It’s hard to tell what he’s feeling, but that’s nothing new. His face is twisted up like he wants to say something, but Katara knows he won’t. He hasn’t before.

His mouth opens, and for a minute, she thinks he’s about to prove her wrong.

It clicks shut and fury burns bright again. The adrenaline rush isn’t over yet. 

“You bastard,” she says in a low voice. “You traitorous bastard.”

Zuko says nothing, prompting her further. The jet of water that blows him off his feet surprises them both, neither one of them expecting it. Zuko is blown back by the force, slamming forcefully into a trunk and gasping for the air that won’t come. 

Katara doesn’t know how long she’s wanted to do that until she sees him like that, on his knees from her doing. She hasn’t realized it, but she blames Zuko for everything that has gone wrong, even for the little things that couldn’t possibly have anything to do with him. Everything thing is his fault, and she’s so angry. She needs this – badly.

“Do you know what you did?” she yells at his crouched figure. Water surges on both sides of her, like serpentine guardians watching over her shoulders protectively. They follow the angry movements of her hands.

Zuko has caught his breath, holds up one hand in a defensive position. He rises to his feet warily. “Katara,” he says, “I don’t want to fight you.”

“Well, that’s too bad, because _I_ want to fight _you!_ ” The water whip lashes out in her oldest, most reliable move. It leaves a clean slash in where Zuko’s head was not two seconds ago. “You made that happen when you turned against us!”

Forced to defend himself, Zuko sends a blast of fire from his palm, evaporating the water in midair as it’s launched towards him. Their eyes blink, adjusting to the sudden brightness in the forest. “I did the right thing!” he shouts back, and now he’s furious. His insides twist at the recollection of that battle, that final shot delivered by Azula, striking the Avatar down at the zenith of his power. He was not the one who issued the killing stroke, and Katara has no right to assign him the blame. “I restored my honor!”

Another blast, another one dodged. Sweat breaks out on Zuko’s forehead from the close call, he can feel the tiny droplets of water spraying his face as it flicks over his head, barely missing him. Thrust out palms deliver his first offensive attack, still hesitant on fully engaging her. He doesn’t want to hurt her. 

Katara dives to the side as the fire passes over her, squishing in the mud as she rolls. She’s shaking with rage, with the ridiculousness of his excuses. “Your _honor_?” she seethes, and the water behind her quivers. “You traded your honor for the love of your uncle, Zuko. Was it worth it?”

“Don’t talk about my uncle!” Zuko bellows, and fires off a series of violent shots. He forgets his silent promise to try to not hurt her. Flames lick the surfaces of the burning wood, consuming it with a putrid smell. Her nose wrinkles, at both him and the scent. 

“Poor Zuko,” she mocks cruelly. “So confused yet so stupid. Stupid enough to stay in the middle, never picking one side and _sticking with it._ ”

He can pull his hair out in frustration right now. It’s one thing to think that way, but it’s another thing for him to hear the sinewy waterbender dangle it in front of his face.

They both call their element to them, willing it to be more powerful than the others’. Hands at their sides, fists clenched, Katara’s are encased in water while Zuko’s are engulfed in flame, both too furious to realize how much the other person is hurting.

They dance in a battle of combat as fire glazes over the cool liquid, leaping on their toes to avoid being hit. Her eyes are wildly searching and her heart beats erratically; hate powers through her veins, pushing her on. Water is frozen into dozens of lethal-looking, icy daggers, and Katara sends wave after wave of icicles towards her enemy but his flaming shields render them useless. They melt and the fire spreads out as Zuko sends it flying through the air, growing as it picks up speed. She avoids getting singed – barely.

Her breathing has become strangely calm, almost serene, as she fights. She no longer feels the rush, the beat of her heart sounding eerily distant. With a tug somewhere deep in her stomach, Katara summons the power from the recesses inside her.

The ground under Zuko’s feet begins to feel unstable, as all the water is pulled out of the wet marsh. Droplets hover a few centimeters above the ground, trembling. 

Zuko tries to move towards her, only to discover that his feet have been sunken in and buried in the dry earth. Grunting, he tries to pull himself out, failing. His fire serves no purpose; only interring himself further.

The watery tendrils swirl around him, snaking up his body, entwining themselves with his legs, his arms, his fingers. They form a gelatinous blob around his hands, and Zuko suddenly finds it impossible to conjure a fire without boiling his own hands. 

He yells as thick vines begin to move of their own accord, wrapping his around his wrists and pulling him in both directions. Katara approaches him warily, hands held out in front of her, controlling the vines that imprison him. 

“Let me go!” he shouts. Pulls fiercely at the bindings. “Release me!”

“Why would I?” sneers the waterbender. She holds nothing but contempt for the future Fire Lord, who is currently bound at her feet. Still, seeing him in that vulnerable position, makes her stomach leap into her throat. She swallows the urge to do as he says and release him. 

His menace has dissipated but Zuko’s chest heaves as he struggles to calm his erratic breathing. “Because this isn’t what you want,” he says, his eyes trained on the dried earth. “You don’t want to kill me.”

“You don’t know me.” Even as she says it, she can’t keep the tremor out of her voice. Her fists clench. She takes a step closer. 

“I know enough. You have too much good in you, just like you couldn’t kill the pirate.” His throat works furiously.  “Just like you offered to rid your enemy of his scar, his worst reminder.”

Now it’s Katara who can’t meet his gaze. She remembers that clearly; does more than remember it. At night, her sleep is often disturbed by visions of a glowing, crystalline cave, and golden eyes that outshine it. Eyes that see through her, straight to her soul and past an exhausted veneer, where she jolts awake, desperately trying to rid herself of thoughts of him. It doesn’t ever work, though. His image paints the back of her eyelids. 

“My biggest mistake,” she says quietly. “You don’t deserve it. You never did. You are single-handedly responsible for everything that has gone wrong with the Avatar’s journey. You’ve chased us halfway around the world, nearly killed us more times than I can count, sought Aang for your own purposes, and betrayed me when I trusted you most!” Her voice has risen to shouting in his face, shaking. 

Zuko clenches his jaw tightly. “You’re not talking about Aang anymore.”

“No,” she says, and to her chagrin, her voice softens helplessly. “How could you? I thought you’d changed, Zuko.” His pulse skips at her soft voice, sounding so heartbroken that he wants to take her in his arms and smooth her hair down and whisper comforting words in her ears. Cursing himself for wanting something that can never be, he forces his head up to meet piercing, azure eyes.

“I have changed,” he says, and Katara shakes her head. 

“You haven’t.” Her voice hardens. She’s only a few steps away. “You sit there in your palace all day, being served sweet fruits and doing whatever you want–”

“That’s not true at all!” he roars suddenly, vines pulling taut at his abrupt movement. His eyes pin her down, blazing with a ferocity that makes her feel scared. But behind those eyes all she can see is pain, and it kills her. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to go through the day knowing my family is using me as a _pawn?_ That, at any moment, they would turn on me if it was convenient for them?” Spittle flies from his lips, quivering with too many emotions he doesn’t want to address. “The only family member who I care about can’t even look at me. And this whole time, knowing that my father knows exactly what happened to my mother yet he won’t tell me.” The last part is spoken in a croaked whisper, and his head drops forward again. 

Katara’s heart does a strange leap, and against her better judgement, she swipes a lock of black hair from his face, fingers gently brushing his forehead. She feels him stiffen under her hands, reacting to her touch. Impulsively, she smooths his hair back, though his eyes are downcast. Her fingertips trace the edges of his scar, the burnt and ugly skin that is never touched. Zuko’s jaw clenches at the feeling of her drifting her fingers along the roughness.

“Zuko.” Her sweet, gentle voice wraps around his name, and it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. Never has his name ever been spoken the same way by anyone else.

Her hands keep traveling down, cupping his cheek and rubbing comforting circles with her thumb. 

“Stop.” His voice is hoarse. “You…you can’t keep doing that.”

“Why?” Katara’s mouth is so near his ear, he can feel her hot breath fanning over his neck. He suppresses a shudder, though he doesn’t want to. 

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he says. She lifts his chin to face her, and his eyes flash like lightning through her.

“I’m supposed to hate you, right?” she whispers, fingers still on his jawline, searching his eyes for something he’s not sure she’ll find. “So why do I want this so badly?” Pulse beating under her hands, throbbing in his neck. He knows.

 “Show me.” And her hands wind themselves tightly in his hair, pulling his mouth to hers in a feverish battle between lips and teeth. He doesn’t notice the bindings loosening, only brings his arms around her. He doesn’t notice the water around his hands falling to the ground, only feels the soft curve of her body, pressing into his. He doesn’t notice their surroundings, only the sweet scent that can only ever belong to Katara.

Unconsciously, the firebender heats up the area around them. Light, flickering flames lick at their calves, not hot enough to cause pain. Katara barely feels it; his body warms her like nothing else can. But the water around them starts to rise, too, risen like their temperatures, swirling amidst the ever growing tongues of fire. Waves of water and fire blend together like the colors of an oil painting, the liquid never evaporating and the blaze never extinguishing. They’re not thinking about it; they are quite busy with something else. But if they had been, no doubt they would have noticed the magic they’re creating. All because their elements are in perfect harmony.

As the benders are right now.

Her chest rises and falls, desperate for more as she presses him closer, like he will never be close enough. She feels his lips, soft and smooth, playing on her mouth, just as desperate and just as wanting. She doesn’t even care when he pushes her up, back against the tree trunk. Runs his hands over her face, cradling her, like she’s the most precious thing in the world. 

A faint whimper escapes her lips, but not Zuko’s attention. He grasps her waist, planting a trail of fiery kisses down her jaw, down her neck. The whimper turns into a moan. Palms trace hard patterns down the ridges of his back.

In the back of their minds, there’s a voice screaming at them to stop, to see sense, but if they’re being honest, they can never see straight when they’re around each other. And it feels too good to stop.

Passion grips them on a tight leash, an unseen force as he drives her deeper into insanity. Every touch of his lips, every caress of his hands on her skin. Katara doesn’t know if she’s ever felt this treasured. This loved.

He breaks away finally and she wills herself to look up. When she does, gleaming golden eyes stare back, so close with his forehead resting against hers, breaths mingling in this shared space. Her hand, still fisted in his inky hair, slides his to cheek. Traces his lips. The softness. The telltale redness of a kiss.

“Don’t.” His voice is shaking as she touches the scarred flesh. His hands move to brush her away but she holds fast. “I don’t want you to see it.”

Something squeezes her heart in a vise-like grip at the sight of him turning away, pulling away from her again. Zuko has gone through so much, she knows, and it makes her feel even guiltier for yelling at him earlier. “I want to.”

“I hate it. People see the scar, and they know it’s me. That’s what they see; the mark of the once banished prince.”

“It’s not,” Katara says, without knowing what she means. “It’s not you. You’re not defined by it, Zuko.” His name sounds beautiful on her lips, almost enough to ignore her words. “I know you’re good inside. Just…follow your gut feeling more often.” It’s something he can hear Uncle saying, and it hits him like a punch. “Follow your heart.”

Right now, Zuko’s heart is doing indescribable things to him. Telling him to kiss her again. Something is aching for her. “I…” he falters, and he clenches his teeth and tightens his jaw. He can’t say the words.

Too soon, he feels her letting go of him. And even though _he’s_ the firebender, her’s is a fire that burns the brightest. Zuko can feel it; she’s distancing herself again, returning to reality. As he should, too.

He doesn’t want to.

“Look,” she says, leaning back from him. “You have to go back to your palace now, _Prince_ Zuko.”

“What,” he teases half-heartedly, “are we back to formalities?”

Katara smiles slightly, but she’s let go completely now. “Be more careful,” she says, with still a tinge of compassion in a neutral voice. “And more discreet. I won’t be there next time to save your butt.” Her light, teasing tone is back, but only a little. Zuko will take what he can get, though.

“They’ll be back for you, you know, after they wake up and realize we’re gone. They’re going to want revenge; pirates usually do.” 

She looks around, as if just remembering where she is. The pirates are still passed out, sprawled out on the marsh ground. It’s like a quick shock of lightning, and it brings her back to the present. She comes back, though reluctantly. 

“Against you, not me,” she reminds him.

“They’ll hate me, but they’ll hate you, too.”

With barely a stroke of hesitation, Katara reaches out to cup his cheek and leans back into that world that has only the two of them, together. The air crackles, but it seems almost normal. This is how she feels around him, always. “Don’t worry about next time,” she whispers, searching him with clear blue eyes. “I’ll save you from the pirates.” 

Her mouth catches his in a brief kiss – lingering, wanting – but it speaks of a sort of farewell, and he works hard to swallow the lump as she leaps out of his sight. She’s quiet, fast, and lithe, and she doesn’t look back.

Zuko is left standing alone, with unspoken words and impossibilities of a beautiful Water Tribe girl weighing on his lips.


	4. part iv

When the rest of the gang walks over that hill at an hour till sunset, they find Katara stirring a boiling pot furiously.  
“Hi, Katara,” says Aang cautiously. She seems agitated.  
She looks up, flashing him a brief smile as she blows a strand of hair out of her face. “Hi, guys,” she says, still stirring. “How was the market?”  
“It was great!” Sokka grins, and shoves a box of white, powdery balls under his sister’s nose. “Look, we bought these chewy things!” In stuffing one in his mouth, flour dusts itself all over his face, puffing out a cloud as he talks. “It’s got sweet red bean paste in it and it’s proof that not everything in the Fire Nation is bad. What’s it called again, Toph?” His last sentence is drowned out over loud, smacking bites.  
“Mochi,” the earthbender prompts him. Sokka groans with gusto and shoves another one in his mouth.  
“What’ve you been doing, Sugar Queen?” Toph sniffs. “Is that fish?”  
Katara nods, before remembering that her blind friend can’t see her and says, “Yeah. I…took a walk earlier. There was a fish stall.”  
Momo flits over to Aang’s shoulder and squints at her, with an almost challenging stare. You weren’t here, he scolds, and she tries to calm herself. She’s just imagining it; Momo is just a winged-lemur.  
“Hey, Momo.” Aang scratches behind his ears. “Want some fish?”  
The gang splits the newly cooked fish from the makeshift pot, bringing some over to Appa, who swallows it all in one gulp. They eat as they roll out their tents, getting ready to stay the night and take off by tomorrow morning.  
Katara’s removing the pot from the fire and is just about to snuff it out when something stops her. She doesn’t want to, but she sees his face in the bonfire, spitting in and out of sight. Transfixed, she doesn’t move, allowing herself to be warmed by the hearth. It pops; it doesn’t bother her, though. It’s like his touch. She sees the element, devouring the burning wood.  
She sees sparks.  
The ones she sees when she’s kissing him.  
They’re searing.  
His lips on her neck.  
Glowing.  
The way his eyes do when he looks at her.  
She doesn’t notice her friends calling for her until a few seconds later. “What?”  
“I asked if you found anything, Katara,” repeats the young monk with slight concern. “Did you?”  
She doesn’t answer. The embers reflect in her eyes, appearing a whirlpool of silvery gray. They don’t see anything. She wraps her arms around her midsection thoughtlessly, achingly.  
“Nothing,” she says finally, and stamps out the dying flame.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading :3


End file.
